


The Vast

by xHonestSecretsx



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHonestSecretsx/pseuds/xHonestSecretsx
Summary: Queen (Y/N) the Vast has been obsessed with Hvitserk Lothbrok since her days as a girl in Kattegat. She has always had an obsession with Hvitserk– entering the civil war to side with Bjorn and Ubbe. Ivar has a remedy for that.





	1. Chapter 1

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The first time he saw her on the battlefield froze him in place. He never saw her fight. Much less cutting down men and women by Ubbe’s side. That was his real shock. She left him to fight with Ubbe? At the very least, he had hoped that she would side with him after all this time. However, that turned out not to be the case. He glared into the bright orange fire, embers flicking out in front of Harald’s eyes.

“Who was that woman?” Harald came to sit beside him. Hvitserk’s jaw knit tight, teeth grinding hard enough to chip as they coursed together. For once, Hvitserk wasn’t eating. His back curved with his hands on his knees, replaying the day over in his mind’s eye.

“Queen (Y/N) the Vast.” He answered.

“Why vast?” Harald asked.

“Because the army she leads is vast, and from different nations.” Ivar interjected on the other side of the flames. It was no secret that they had been flanked earlier by your people— who stopped short of killing Hvitserk on your command. Your second-in-command’s blade slipping off of Hvitserk’s neck, turning her back to him with a spin of the coal coloured twists on her head. A slit across his throat began to heal as evidence of the event. It could have been worse. His portion of the army was decimated.

“Hvitserk. I noticed how she didn’t want to hurt you. Why was that?” Harald reflected back to the experience almost fondly— as if they had an advantage.

“…she was my friend until I…” Hvitserk murmured something indecipherable under his breath. Harald cocked his brow and leaned back, waiting for his answer. Instead Hvitserk turned his head in, chin against his chest.

“Rejected her marriage proposal three times.” Ivar answered for the second time today. Hvitserk turned his head up with a hushed sigh. Harald lulled his head back as if that sounded mighty familiar to his own experience in life. It was bizarre for her to propose in the first time— but three? It was the maximum amount she could ask to keep both of their honours.

Harald clapped his hands in elation. “She still feels for you! I can feel it in my chest.” Harald beat his hand against his chest as he spoke. Hvitserk couldn’t believe any woman would want him after what he had done. He embarrassed you in front of all of Kattegat– then whipped around to sleep with Margrethe.

You left Kattegat enraged.

“That is why I am going to take Hvitserk with me to speak to her.” Ivar said flatly.

“What? No! I’m not going.” Hvitserk’s head snapped towards his brother. How could Ivar expect him to face her again? Especially after today. The other men gave sharp, nasty groans. Harald reached out to Hvitserk’s shoulder, shaking him encouragingly.

“It will be easy. Take her to your bed— .“ Harald suggested.

“She isn’t the type to be taken.” Hvitserk cut him short, looking toward the speckled sky. You were the type of woman to do the taking– relentlessly. You certainly tried to coax him into sex, but that too failed horribly for you.

“Convince her to side with us. That’s all we need.” Ivar grumbled. Hvitserk sighed. He had no choice.

Hvitserk.

He looked as he always did. His braids were interwoven in an intricate display, lips in a pout even if he was blood swept by blood. Not much had changed in that respect… but he was not with Ubbe. That was unexpected. You sunk into the warm water of your bath with a sigh. No matter how many times you replayed how you lost your best friend, it never made sense. He was yours. If he would just realize that he belonged to you, completely and fully, it would make life for him that much easier. You lost him where you shouldn’t… and where you wouldn’t. He would be yours.

“My Queen.” The head of your general, Aat, popped in. Her white teeth gleamed a bright brown lipped smile. She came into the room adorned in bead and gold. Your hands slid over your breasts in the bath, shifting to the edge.

“Yes Aat?” You asked.

“I have Ragnarssons waiting outside for you.” Aat says. You had been expecting Bjorn and Ubbe later– but if it was now, then it was now. A thrall pours more warm water into the bath while you nod.

“Send them in.” You turn back in the bath. Aat marches out if only to bring the men in. Immediately you sensed something was off. Bjorn was a thick man. Your hand flew to the knife in your bath, jerking it up into your hand when two removed the heads of their cloaks. Bright blue piercing eyes– and on one, you remembered that sweet, jovial smile where a pitied frown lay. 

It was Ivar and Hvitserk.

You sunk back, a ridiculous wide smile on your lips. “If it isn’t Kattegat’s prized princes.” You say, sweeping down in the water before back up. You lull your head on the side of your bath.

“Queen (Y/N). Bad timing?” Ivar limped ahead of his brother, obscuring your vision of Hvitserk as he stood in front of you. You pushed him aside, eyes trained on the timid figure in the back.

“No, perfect.” You said, flicking your fingers at Hvitserk. “Come here Hvitserk. Why are you being so shy?”

Hvitserk’s eyes scanned the floor, hardly moving until Ivar threw back a glare at him. Hvitserk moved away from your exotic white plumed birds with crowns of all shades of colours in vast cages.

“It’s been a while.” Hvitserk muttered an excuse. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

You chalk out a smile, pulling yourself slightly out of the water as he came to a stop in front of you. His hand combs through your slick hair and you lean into his touch.

“Oh dear Hvitserk.” You start, your hand darting out to swipe his wrist from your hair. A mean twist of his wrist brings Hvitserk onto his knees before you, as it should be. “I always want to see you. But you never want to see me. So Ivar, tell me why you are here.”

You release Hvitserk just as Ivar’s slow gaze runs over Hvitserk’s eyes. The whites of his sclera were exposed and like a scared cat, the hair on his arms stood up.

“I want you to side with Harald and I.” Ivar turned his eyes back to you.

“Now why would I do that?” You ask, folding your arms one over the other again. After all– you had a large army of powerful women and men. You were a Queen with no stake in this war of Ivar against Lagertha.

“Because I’ll give you Hvitserk.”

Now he had your attention.


	2. Chapter II: I Deserve More

Your mouth could have been watering at his offer. But from the jarred look on your sweet boy’s face, you knew that it wasn’t a mutual understanding. Hvitserk’s face whipped around to his younger brother, lips pressed together all too cutely. He looks like a frightened doe, ready for a predator to pounce. The offer was enticing— truly.

“It doesn’t look like Hvitserk agrees.” You slide out of the water, reaching for cloth to dry off your body with. Ivar’s gaze bore down on Hvitserk as you spoke.

“Funny as it may be– I only came to claim my husband to be.” You say, sliding the sheer red cloth around your body and crouching beside Hvitserk.

“Who would that be?” Hvitserk asked sharply. Jealousy? You wonder but knew that Hvitserk had never been the jealous type with you. You run your fingertips over the bridge of Hvitserk’s quaint little nose, tapping the point in which it upturned.

“You.” You make a small titter of a laugh. “I have seen men of all sorts of size… and creed. I even found a beautiful general. Did you see her? She’s gorgeous!”

Ivar makes a small grunt in agreement, glancing behind him to where Aat stood, arms folded one over another. A straight, stone face against her plump lips and eyes so deep and decadent, you knew she had talents beyond that of being a mother in her tribe. No, she had been the chief– and a hard one to overcome. But nonetheless, you persisted.

“But none so wonderful as my Hvitserk.” Your finger comes under his scruffy chin, teasing him blatantly. “I will have you one way or another.”

Another toy to your collection. Hvitserk wasn’t sure how he felt about that. What it might have meant for him in the future– but the look in your eyes? Concerte and trained upon him? It meant that you were telling him the truth. His jaw ran one against another, eyes down as he stood up and started for the door.

“Hvitserk!” You call after him. He stops, one foot out of the doorway as you pulled a two piece over your head. “I’ll always be willing to take you willingly.”

“She’s obsessed. She wants me like– like a cat.” Hvitserk paces– and paces. She wanted him to surrender his body to her willingly. Ivar held his hands around his mug, watching his brother losing his mind one moment at a time.

“Not as you remembered her?” Ivar sank in his chair. His tone was a teasing chuckle– knowing the discomfort it gave his brother to be someone’s fixation.

“She was innocent!” He says all at once.

Ivar’s brow knits together with tension, pushing wrinkles towards the middle. “That is not how I remember her.”

The little girl in Hvitserk’s memory was the one that was– perhaps obsessed with him, but warm and always trying to please him. The girl that made him fresh sweets and always would ask him for trivial things: kisses, hugs and give him the warmth that his mother spent on Ivar.

“How do you remember her?” Hvitserk asks, lips parting with a sigh.

“She was desperate for a taste of you.” Ivar chuckles. “She entered a civil war– all to claim you. Do you think she’ll stop?”

She wouldn’t. He knew that you would follow him until you had his taste on your tongue if that’s what it took. Hvitserk ruffles his braids in frustration.

“Fine.”

 

He was here… approaching your tent in the most favourite of your colours on him. The light blue that seemed to make his eyes pop and showed off just a bit– of that creamy skin that would be yours soon.

“Can I…” He motions to your tent. Aat had her dark lips sealed, simply pulling away the lips of your tent. There you sat in a placid nightdress, etched with golden embroidery across lace sleeves. The waist cinched lovely around your midsection and while he knew the little body you hid away, he felt his stomach curling in delight. Your fingers took up with a drink– lips giggly at some broad chested man with twisting hair that tickles your nose. His skin was dark but eyes were bright like the silver shine of armor.

“Oh, Hvitserk!” You hum, looking over to find the young Ragnarsson’s eyebrows cocked. You sent off the hulking man– who brushed past Hvitserk a little more than purposefully trying to knock him down.

“You’ve come back?” You set the goblet down, sliding your feet to the floor to stand. Hvitserk glanced behind to the doors of his metaphorical freedom. He could still leave… but took a few steps closer to pull you in by your waist.

“Who was that?” He asks, dipping his head down against your ear.

“That was Arash. One of my finest men.” You smile at Hvitserk, finding that his arms tighten around your waist. He says nothing and instead grunts at you as you pull back, finding that his eyes wear that look of irritation despite the laziest of grins to his lips.

“I don’t like him.” Hvitserk says.

You didn’t expect him to… but then again. It wasn’t his choice anymore. Your hand fell to his chest, savouring the way his toned chest pressed up against yours.

“You only don’t like him because he wants to lay with me.” You laugh. “Because Hvitserk doesn’t want the crazy one… but he can’t have anyone else having her either, now can he?”

He knew it was true. He pulls back just slightly as you glower through waves of your loose hair. Ubbe and Bjorn must have come, because there were cups laying in your room and more than a few.

“Talk quick, what do you want now?” You ask, turning back to fix Hvitserk a cup of some murky drink. You felt the pressure of Hvitserk against your back, hands at your hips.

“Do you still want me to be your husband?” His words prick at your ear, leading you to lean into his words.

“Oh of course. Is this your way of proposing?” You say.

Hvitserk pauses a moment, spinning you around with something glistening in his hand. A ring of gold that Ivar picked out. Bizarrely romantic a gesture, Hvitserk thought, but it had a gem of your favourite blue hue glistening in the middle.

“This is.” He slides the ring onto wedding ring finger and watches as you carefully inspect it. You then hum.

“I might have seen better, my sweet.” You twiddle your fingers. “But… I have to ask. Did Ivar pick this out? Because this does not look like something my sweet boy would pick or me.”

Hvitserk froze– he was caught by the dangerous glint in your eye. The one that said you wouldn’t allow him to propose half assed. Not after you had worked so hard to make a name for yourself.

“I…” He stutters. Your face drops its playful quality as you bend at the hip with a scoff. It was Ivar who chose this.

“I… I have had enough of you. Then maybe it is Ivar I should demand to marry. And you who I keep like a dog– since you are so prone to treat me like one. Not a ring of my own by you nor a kiss without his hand over you.” You push Hvitserk back and with a snap of your tongue, you speak.

“Go get me Ivar.”


	3. Chapter III: What She Doesn't Have

It was one thing to be enraged.

Another thing entirely to be so wrecked that anything you found was chucked of your fingers with shrilling screams. Mead, porcelain and ceramic all whizz across the tent with a loud crash and clang as they exploded into pieces of shards. Inside your tent– Aat and Arash stood by your side as you zip side to side, commending objects to a dark fate on the ground or across the room and into poles.

“What did you do?” Ivar approaches his brother, cloak drawn over his head under the chill of night.

“WHAT DO I NOT HAVE?!”

The boys turn in direction of your screams. You go on a tangent about Margrethe from within the tent– and suddenly, Ivar became aware. Hvitserk had failed, somehow. He can’t imagine how when you have longed for this proposal for years upon years upon years. Ivar jams his crutch in the direction of your tent, coming in just as you twirl around to throw a small knife in his direction.

“Why does your brother not want me, Ivar!?” You hiss. “Am I not desirable? I have conquered new nations, spread them across Midgard for him! So that he might know that (Y/N) the Vast is worth a ring! And he comes here with a ring YOU picked?!”

Ivar stares deftly as you approach him. You withdrew a sword from a vast stand, sliding up to him as if to beat him when you realize that he has a dumb, amazed stare. His hand raised to catch your wrist short of beating him. Ivar slides your hand to the side, jerking your wrist forward. You fell into him with a short grunt and his same hand slides about your back.

“Is that a problem?” He asks.

Was it a problem?! Of course it was a problem!

“I didn’t want a ring from you! A man should propose with his own ring!” You say, slipping the ring off of your finger and shove it in his hand. “If you gave him this ring, you should be marrying me! Not him!”

Ivar ran his thumb over the rim of his ring, bobbing his head in thought. Clank! You shove another vase over when Ivar grasps your elbow, tugging you around to look at him.

“Then marry me.” He hums. Obviously– Hvitserk has walked them into an awkward situation. He either remedied it or there would be trouble to be had.

“Marry me. I know you want a King.” He repeats, offering out his hand to you. Fuck him, you think. You glare out to Arash and Aat as they stand, arms folded tight like statues. Your eyes slip down to his gloved hand, then back to Aat as if unsure.

“I heard Ubbe proposed.” He suggests. It was all an alliance– nothing more. “We can make you far happier.”

“We?” You suggest. Ivar glances over to Hvitserk as if he had no voice in the matter. Hvitserk doddles up– just as Arash speaks.

“My Queen… these Ragnarssons are going to exploit you.” He leans forth, twists snapping around his front as you hold your hand up to instill silence upon him. Ivar’s words have you interested.

“What do you mean we?” You say harshly.

Ivar looks to his brother. “You support me on this venture… and your husband will gift you the one man on Midgard you want.”

You did not need a king, but you wanted a king. You wanted Hvitserk to be your king for years–to serve underneath you where he should have been this whole time. But it became blatantly obvious that he was not worthy of you. He wasn’t worthy of an inch of your body. As a woman who valued yourself, you wouldn’t deface yourself like that.

“Oh. Then let me guess… you should be my worthy husband?” You suggest.

Ivar holds up the ring, flipping it in the air with a sassy flip before he catches it. This time he takes your finger to slide the ring on. The ring that did not symbolize love or lust, but symbolized something else. An alliance between your people and his.

“Of course I am.” He says and again— this is only an alliance.

You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing. The Great army and your Vast army? Lagertha would have no choice but to give into his wills. However, you had no desire to enter this way. You only came to reclaim Hvitserk. Poor Hvitserk– shuddering like a wet dog as you tap your lips.

“Fine. But he is mine as of tonight.” You bring your hand back to your breast and Arash lowers his shoulders with a groan. His stubborn queen hadn’t listened— or rather, you listened more to the ache of your cunt then Arash’s sound advice.

“Now get out.” You motion them all, save Hvitserk, whose wrist you tug back toward your bed. The bruising grip alerts him to the fact that he is in trouble… and a lot of it.


End file.
